


You Don't Have to be Alone

by hatwall



Series: The Fighting Pit [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, At least in some of them, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Dadza, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, It is explained, Minecraft IRL, Pain, Phil has wings, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade is Bad at Feelings (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, but this time with cities, philza - Freeform, piglin techno, servers still exist, technoblade wilbur and tommy are adopted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28779543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatwall/pseuds/hatwall
Summary: Hybrids are accepted in this society. At least, for the most part. Some of the Nether-born ones had a little harder time, but it was manageable. Technoblade knows that he should not be jealous of them. They deserved to be treated as living creatures.And for the piglin?Well, let's just say that people more often than not stayed out of his way. And the company he worked for? Fighting for the amusement of others? Yeah, they did not really care too much about his well being.Which was fine.He could manage that.Until he can't.And just because Technoblade never dies, does not mean that he never gets hurt.This is strictly the characters and not the actual content creatures. If any boundaries are crossed, I will immediately take it down. Respect people's boundaries.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: The Fighting Pit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110044
Comments: 18
Kudos: 412





	You Don't Have to be Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Block men have taken over my life. This is the result.

Technoblade never dies.

The piglin could hear the phrase echoing off the wall so the stadium, as he held up his sword high over his head. Blood started to dry on his clothes, the fancy robe, and boots that he had gotten ready for this specific event. His golden crown gleaming in the air, nestled between his tall pig ears, and under the mass of pink fur.

He could feel the adrenaline still buzzing through his veins, letting the piglin blood course through him. Giving a high like no other. Soaking up the praise. The chants. The recognition. The metallic smell of blood in the air.

The remains of a battle surrounded him. The islands connected by hesitantly build bridges by his opponents, a few made by himself. Empty caves were beds used to be, blood smears all around them. The stands and seating areas surrounding that, with roaring crowds filling every seat, everyone excited to have seen the Blood God fight.

It was all his. This was his moment. He was Technoblade. And he deserved the praise. Because he was the best. The Blood God. A terror in any tournament that he entered.

As his breathing started to return to normal, as the adrenaline started to get flushed from his system, he could feel his body sway. Stumbled a moment, if you will. His vision swam, the people around him turning to blobs, before he gave his head a solid shake, pumping the sword in the air, encouraging another round of applause.

He was Technoblade. Sure, he never died. But that did not mean that he did not get hurt like hell.

The walk to the locker room, he could feel his body starting to shut down. Trying to force his mind to go through the normal routine of doing a mental check of all injuries was starting to get harder than it normally was. By the time he was in the locker room, making sure that no one was around, everything was starting to fade in and out of focus.

He collapsed onto one of the benches, resting his elbows on his knees, letting his head fall a moment.

The feeling of blood loss was something that he was used to, but it did not stop him from hating it as much as he did. Nausea started to churn in his stomach. Throwing up was the very last thing that he wanted to do at the moment.

All he wanted to do was go back to his little apartment, lock himself in, patch up the wounds, before getting some sleep, getting ready for the next day. While he loved his job as much as the next person, fighting being his way of getting high, the new contract that he had made was starting to take a toll on his body. He would have to talk to someone about that. He understood the need to keep audience retention, and that he was one of the best ways to do that, but if they wanted him to keep fighting, he was going to need at least a day to recover. The wounds were barely getting time to even begin to heal before he was taken to the next fight.

But that was a fight for another day. At this very moment, he needed to go home, a hot meal in his belly, patch up the wounds, before passing out for at least twelve hours.

Groggily opening his locker, Techno pulled off his ruined cape, careful to wrap up the bloody parts so it would not ruin everything. Taking off his pants, and pulling on some sweats. Pulling on a windbreaker, securing his sword in its sheath. Taking a few wipes out of a bag, and starting to wipe down his face. Getting in the crevices that were created by his snout meeting the rest of his face, the very tips of his tusks that protruding out of his face, the pig ears that stuck out of his head. They normally stood tall and proud, but, at the moment, he could feel how droopy they were.

Pulling the bag out of his locker, and slinging it over his shoulder, strapping the sheath to the side of his hip, he turned.

Whoa. Too fast.

His mind swam, his vision going for a moment. Trying to blink a few times, Techno reached out, putting a hand on the locker to steady himself, while he waited for his vision to come back.

Fuck, was he really that tired?

Exhaustion starting to soak into his bones. A part of him was considering missing dinner to just get to bed faster. If he was really swaying like this, it was even more important that he gets somewhere he could patch up his wounds. He never liked doing that in the locker rooms. Too easy for someone to stab him when he was tending to his wounds. And he knew there were no negotiations between the employees. That was one of the first rules he learned.

“Well, good job on yet another victory,” someone said. Techno turned around, seeing one of the people he fought, leaning against one of the lockers. He wore a deep green hoodie, a plain smiling mask covering his entire face, straps crossing his body, with black fingerless gloves around his hands. Dream. A parkourer, and speedrunner. He was signed with a different company than Techno, rarely doing PvP, but looks like he just got back from a tournament himself. “I assume you sweep the competition?”

“As always,” he replayed. Normally, he was more than ready for some playful banter with the speedrunner, but he was no in the mood at the moment. The nausea was getting worse, to the point where he didn't want to eat, and a headache was starting to emerge.

“Well you look like shit,” Dream said, kicking off the locker as the piglin passed by, following close behind.

“Thanks.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“I don’t remember.”

Wow. Yeah. Had it been that long?

“Well, work has always been hard right. Guess it makes sense this is no different.”

Techno grunted a response. He was getting annoyed.

“Well, I will leave you to your night,” Dream said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. That made him jump, reaching for his sword as well, turning around with half-crazed eyes. A shot of adrenaline shooting through his body. He was back. In the pit.

Oh, wait. Dream. Right.

Fuck.

They stood there for a moment. While Techno breathed much too hard, trying to focus himself to calm down. To not pull the sword and start swinging. Just calm down. It’s fine. You're fine.

“Seriously man,” Dream said, giving his shoulder a few cautious pats, “get some sleep. You really need it.”

“Yeah.” He mumbled, before abruptly turning and exiting the locker room, really trying to avoid the eyes he knew that Dream was giving him.

Bursting out of the door, and into the cold night air, only then did he realize how hot it had been. The second shot of adrenaline started to wear off, leaving him only more tired than before. His ears were drooping more.

One of his hooves caught on something, stumbling a moment, before catching himself on a wall.

His legs were shaking under him. They were shaking. It felt like they were going to give out at any moment.

Handling blood loss as something he could deal with. The nausea. The headaches. Exhaustion was something he could deal with. The sluggish feeling on his body, like he was being weighed down. But both at once was starting to become a problem.

Just the thought of having to climb stairs to get to his apartment was enough to make him want to curl up in the alley right there and sleep.

But that would be an incredibly bad idea. He was the Blood God after all. The number of people who would be more than willing to beat the shit out of him if they found him in such a vulnerable state was astounding. If he never wanted to wake up again, it was a solid choice. But, at the moment the only logical part of his piglin brain told him not to do it.

So, he started to walk. Putting one hooved foot in front of the other, Technoblade started to make his way through the concrete jungle back to his apartment.

His clumpy hoof hands grasped at his keys, trying to fish them out of his pocket, fiddling with the buttons to unlock his car. Trying to keep his hands steady enough to push the buttons.

Collapsing into the seat, Techno could have sworn he felt his heart rate starting to slow down. His mind wondered. And for a moment, he had no idea what he was looking at. The dash of his car. The steering wheel. None of it made sense. His hands were shaking. His whole body was shaking. Cold. It was so very cold.

Somewhere in his molasses brain, a word appeared: Shock.

He was going into shock.

This was bad.

The next new minutes were a series of in and outs. Dodging out of consciousness for a moment, before diving back into his body. His mind swam with exhaustion. Dizzy. Confused. He was so confused.

His phone was in his hands. Clumsily typing in his password, Techno pressed his dad's contact, barely finding the energy to put the phone to his ear.

A ring.

Another.

Was he going to answer?

Another ring.

What was plan B?

There was none.

His mind was getting so, so fuzzy.

His eyes were starting to close.

“Hello, Techno! How are you?”

Thank god.

“Phil….?”

“Techno? What happened?”

“Phil, my head really hurts. I….I think I’ve lost too much blood. Everything hurts.”

“Techno, I’m going to need you to speak up.”

He tried. He really did. Opening his mouth to try to talk, but all that came out was a groan of pain. His eyes fluttered closed again.

“Technoblade!”

He jolted awake again. Oh right.

“Where are you?”

“I’m outside of my job. On Quental street. In my car.”

“Alright,” there was some rummaging in the background, he could have sworn he heard his brother's voices “Techno, I’m going to need you to stay awake until we come and get you.”

“That might be a little hard. I’m getting tired.”

“Techno! You need to stay awake. Tell me how the fight was.”

“It was alright. I….I….”

God, he was so tired. So, so tired. He had never really known how tired he had been until now. It would not hurt to take a little bit of a nap right? His body did not feel as much pain, so that must be good for something right?  
His eyes slid shut, and the Blood God slipped into the first peaceful, quiet sleep in a while.

***

Phil had been having a good day. Wilbur and Tommy had been around for dinner, even helping him make it. After they had watched some Criminal Minds, winding down for the night. It had been quiet. Nice. While they all tried to ignore a curtain brother that was missing.

But Phil was proud of his eldest son. He was making a name for himself, even if it was through violent means, it was something that made him happy. He was supporting himself. And if that made him happy, his family would support him no matter what. 

But that did not make him any less sad that he had not seen his son in months. Regular calls had stopped after a few days, visits were even rarer. But he was growing up, it was to be expected. Sure he worried, but he knew that Techno was doing well. At least he hoped.

So when his phone lit up, and he looked over to see his piglin son’s icon, his heart jumped a little. A smile danced on his face and stayed there as he swiped the icon across.

“Hello, Techno! How are you?”

“Phil…..?”

Oh no. The smile dropped from his face immediately. Techno's breathing was labored, like it was hard to even take in air, with a pained edge to the normal monotone voice. Oh no. no-no-no.

“Techno? What happened?”

“Phil, m’head….hurts. I-I-I-I lost. Blood. Ugh.”

No no-no-no.

“Techno, I’m going to need you to speak up.”

There was a pained groan on the other side. He was up, rushing over to the coat closest, grabbing his normal green coat. Tommy and Wilbur followed his movements. Wilbur looked worried. While, Tommy was oddly still, a scared expression on his face. So, so scared.

There was no response for a moment too long.

“Technoblade!” Phil yelled. This could not be happening. What had even happened? “Where are you?”

“Mmmm. Work. Car. On Quental.”

“Alright,” Phil pulled his keys into a pocket, before turning to his other sons. 

“What’s wrong?” Tommy said, now sitting fully up. Fear creased into his young face. The even mention of his older brother, his idol being in trouble.

“Get to the portal, we're going to Qeupillia,” that’s all he had time to explain before Phil turned back to the phone. “Techno, I’m going to need you to stay awake until we come and get you.”

“‘M so tired.”

Fear jumped in his chest. No! He could not fall asleep. There was a very real possibility that he would never wake up after. He bolted out the garage door, Wilbur and Tommy close behind him.

“Techno! You need to stay awake.” They were all in the car, seatbelts on, as Phil brought the car to life. “Tell me how the fight was.”

“Mmmmm.”

“Technoblade! Oh, fuck!” Phil shouted. He burst out of their little cottage, making a beeline for the portal that was not too far from their house, Wilbur and Tommy close behind. His vision narrowed, wings puffing out as he let the magic take him to the other realm, popping out at the Central Station, the place where all of the portals to all servers were.

Qeupillia was a special case. Because it was a big city, on a server. Most places were not like that, having medium populations, of people wanting to live peaceful lives. Qeupillia was a metropolis. Of companies, advertisements, and entertainment. a place where people could go to become famous. And it was packed with people. Phil preferred his own littler server, as hard as it had been to get, but did not try to stop his eldest son when he decided to go to the city. He had his reservations about the place, but would not stop the piglin from going.

Now, as he jumped into the car that he owned, solely so he could visit his son, hearing the other two doors slab shut, he glared at the city, blaming it for whatever had happened to his son. He threw the car in reverse, more forcefully than was needed, and started to drive out of the storage parking garage, where all the people who were leaving the city parked.

“What’s going on?” Wilbur asked from the passenger's seat, Tommy leaning forward from the back.

“Techno’s hurt. Or sick. Or something. He’s not doing well. He’s at his work. He sounds really bad.”

Phil knew how his son's stomach dropped when hearing that news, because he did the same, even with just saying it out loud.

His mind flushed out every worst possibility as he drove. Overdose. Beaten up. Drugged. The eerie silence of the car did not help, but there was nothing to say. There was nothing to discuss even though they all wished that they were there already.

It was a little past midnight, meaning most of the traffic was nonexistent, allowing Phil to zip through the streets. Anxiety started to set in when he saw the building he knew that the piglin worked at. He screamed into the employee parking lot.

“There he is!” Tommy yelled, pointing out one of the cars, parked away from all of the others. From the street lights, and darkness of night, they could make out a shape in the passenger's seat. A lump started to form in Phil’s throat as he threw the car into park, and climbed out.

Tommy was a few steps ahead of him, already at the car door, and throwing it open. Before going completely still.

Phil came up behind him. There, head rested against the steering wheel, sat his oldest son, Technoblade, passed out, and clenched a steadily bleeding wound on his side. His normal pink skin was pale, and flushed, sweat starting to collect on his forehead. Blood loss. That’s what he was trying to say.

“Will! Help me, get him to the car. Tommy, open the door.”

They jumped into action, pure shock still on their faces, as Phil moved behind Techno’s back, while Wilbur grabbed his legs. They lifted him up, transferring him to the back seat of his car. He hated how light the piglin felt.

They slid him in before Tommy slid in as well, doing his best to keep tears that streamed down his face silent. Phil shrugging off his coat, handing it to his youngest son.

“Press this hard against his wound, and do not let up.”

He nodded, before Phil got back into the front, and turned into the main road. The nearest hospital was only five minutes away, but that was much too long. He sped through every speed limit, running through yellow lights, but it was still not fast enough as his son, his son, bleed out in his back seat.

It felt like hours before he pulled into the emergency entrance, getting out of the car as fast as he got in. Wilbur got his legs, as Phil pulled him out, Tommy followed close behind, as the family stumbled into the hospital.

“Please, we need help,” Phil shouted, the fear starting to rise on his chest.

Doctors and nurses started to jump into action, bringing a bed over, helping them set the piglin on it before they started to roll him away. Phil followed, slipping his hand into Techno’s hooved one. He did not want to leave him. Not again. Please, no.

“What species is he?” one of the doctors asked as they speed-walked.

“Piglin. I don’t know how much blood he lost, but he’s been like this for a while.”

“Alright, we’ll see what we can do,” the doctor said before they started into two swinging double doors. A nurse stepped in front of him, while the other kept moving. His hand slipped out. They were taking him away.

Wilbur and Tommy stood at either side. Ugly, loud sobs from Tommy, while Wilbur just looked on in shock. They just stood there, up until a nurse escorted them to a sitting area. Phil wrapped his arms around Tommy, holding the teen close to his chest, while they waited, letting him sob and cry.

It was the waiting that was the most crushing. The weight started to set on his chest. After a while Tommy wore himself out, falling asleep on his lap, while Wilbur curled up in a chair in a position only he could find comfortable. While Phil stayed awake, looking down the hall he had let them take his son down. Waiting. Watching.

It was the not knowing that was killing him. The fact that he did not know what had happened. It had to have been a fight. That’s what he did for a living. He was good at it. And the fights were recorded.

Pulling out his phone, Phil pulled up the most recent event, the “Blood God,” being one of the first things in the title. How had his son gotten so famous without him seeing?

The episode started out with normal, over the top announcers, going through the stats of each player. With the sound off, captions on, Phil skipped around until the fight started. There he was. There was Techno. Standing on one side of the arena. He stood so still, his tusks shining in the light. Gleaming. The company's pride and joy.

The bell sounded. The fight started. The contestants started to cover up their beds, before branching out to other islands, creating bridges between them. The respawn stars glowing a little under their shirts. Every time the camera moved to another player Phil felt like screaming. He only wanted to see Techno.

There he was, attacking others. Immediately on the offensive. A certain grace in his movements that the others did not have. Dodging out of their range, before moving around them to get an attack on. Blood started to get cakes on his royal clothes that he was wearing, a bloodlust look in his eye as he brought another opponent to their knees. But there was something more in his eyes. Something more….tired.

The fight kept on. The piglin got a few scratches, but nothing that would be life-threatening. Until it got the last two. The first was hard. Getting quite a few good hits before he was able to run through him. And the last opponent. Holding his sword in such determination as he stared down the piglin.

Their fight lasted longer than any of the others, as both skilled sides tried to best the other. This was when Phil first started to notice the slump in Techno’s shoulders, the way he signs after every failed attempt. It was like he was begging for this to be over, but was unwilling to throw in the towel himself.

It was a sloppy dodge. He knew that. Techno knew that, as the sword was thrown forward, embedding itself into Techno’s side. He seemed to sag a little, grunting under the pain, before grabbing his opponent, and forcing the sword into his gut, watching as the light faded from his eyes, and the man turned to dust to respawn.

With a cry, the piglin pulled the sword out of his side, throwing it to the side, before lifting up his own in triumph. The crowd went wild. Screaming and howling at the victory. While the victor swayed on his feet, before catching himself, standing up proud over the victory.

Seeing what had happened to his boy did not make Phil feel any better. It just made him feel worse.

Hours must have passed as Phil watched the fight over and over again. Each time picking out how much more tired Techno seemed than the last.

The dark circles under his eyes, hastily covered up by makeup. The way he stumped over nothing every once in a while. The shakiness of his hooved hands while holding his sword. The drop in his ears. The way his clothes were a little too loose on his body. He was exhausted, hungry, and running himself ragged.

It made Phil’s blood boil. Whoever did this, whether it had been the piglin himself, or his company, they were getting some choice words once he knew his son was alive and recovering.

It felt like days had passed before a doctor approached him. Tommy was awake and in his own chair at his point, a slight bit of broken hope in his eyes as he watched the doctor approach the family.

“Are you here for a….Technoblade?”

“Yeah, that’s us,” Phil said, really trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Well, let me just say that he is lucky to be alive.” Phil’s stomach dropped, while Wilbur and Tommy sat up, looking more attentive at the doctor. “He had a lot of blood loss, we were lucky to have some piglin blood on stock, it’s not something most hospitals  
normally carry. It’s not that we get a lot of piglin patients.

“He has quite a lot of ribs broken and fractured, some of them older and have not had the correct amount of time to heal, so they keep on getting rebroken. One was dangerously close to his lung. His body is exhausted, with not nearly enough white blood cells to fight off infection or diseases. There were a few injected wounds that have been reopened multiple times. All while he is malnourished, especially for his height and weight, and the amount of physical activity he is doing.

“He’s awake now, albeit, weak. He’s asking for you three. Try not to tire him out, he’s going to need all of the strength he can get if he has any hopes of recovering. He should have at least a week, and even after that, he should take it easy.”

Phil gave a faint nod after he realized the doctor stopped for a confirmation. He was just shocked. He wanted to scoop his boy up in his arms, like he was a little kid again, and protect him from everything around them. Because he was, apparently, not able to take care of himself anymore.

“If you will follow me,” the doctor said, “I'll take you right to him.”

The three were quick to get up, following the doctor's much too slow pace as they climbed flights of stairs, passing the white hallways. The doctor took a sharp turn, putting a hand on a door handle, stopping before.

“He is very weak, so try to not overwhelm him.”

And with that, they opened the door, letting the family enter first, following close behind.

It was chilling, to say the least. A familiar feeling of when Phil saw him in the seat of his car, pale, pink fur sticking to his head, slicked down with sweat. He would have looked peaceful, if there was not a grimace that scrunched up his face, tense and uncomfortable, with a breathing mask strapped to his face. The mask looked uncomfortable, squashing his snout. Hospitals did not especially have special equipment for piglins. It’s not like they wanted to encourage them to come to hospitals. Filthy animals. 

That was what they were generally seen as. The tusks, hooves, bloodthirsty ranges that they would be thrust into. It was not fit for their “civilized society.” And no matter what that was the way that it was going to be. It made Phil sick to his stomach to think about but it was the truth. A truth that he hated.

He had, thankfully, been able to recover the rings that Techno wore in his tusks and the crown that he had perched on his head most of the time, along with his other clothes, blood stains as they were. They were some of the things that made Techno feel like a real person. Someone who deserved respect. The gold calmed him down and gave him the strength to face a world that hated him.

Gods, this was the world that his son lived in. were the best that he could do was cope with how other people treated him.

Phil’s wings shook with anger. Grief. The feeling like he had failed. He was supposed to keep his sons safe, and now one was laying on a hospital bed, stitched together in front of them, and he had not been able to protect him.

He moved forward, slipping his hands into Techno’s, feeling around the rougher tips that were his hooved hands. Intertwining their fingers, while he watched the slight rise and fall of his chest. He was breathing. It was shallow, and he shook with pain every time, but he was breathing And that was all that mattered at the moment.

Wilbur had gone around to the other side of the bed, staring down at his brother in a blank expression. Tommy had tucked himself as close to Phil as he could, not taking his eyes off of the piglin.

Phil wanted him to open his eyes more than anything. He just wanted his sons to be ok. He just wanted to look at those deep red eyes, and know that his son was ok.

***

When Techno started to feel himself coming back to his body, it was a surprise. When he had lost consciousness in his car, he was sure that those were his last moments. That he would bleed out in his car, and his brothers and father would find his drained corpse, sitting in a pool of his own blood. He had thought about how he just wanted to see them again. To tell them that he loved them before he wanted. That this was not the way that he wanted to go. Bled out after winning a fight. The burning feeling of the respawn star that he wore of those things being taken off and placed back in its place before he left.

So when he started to feel again, the numbness of his mind and body slowly getting dragged to the world of the living, he was shocked.

His side was inflamed with pain, only the afterthought dulled by pain meds. His chest felt like it had been caved in, the pieces picked up and put back together with hot glue, gummy and hot.

A groan escaped his lips as he tried to fight to open his eyes. He could feel the bed under him. The thin blanket covering him. Something strapped to his face, sloppily pulled over his snout, helping him breathe. And a hand. A hand in his. Wrapped around the hooved parts of his hands, before it faded into flesh partway down his fingers.

Techno had always hated his hands. The way that the tips were hard and rough, always staying that way no matter what he did. The tapping noises that they made when he picked up anything, especially glass.

Someone was holding his hand. Rubbing the back of his palm in a steady rhythm. A back forth, before tapping a few times, and back again. It was steady. Reliable. It gave him something to focus on as he was pulled to the surface of his mind.  
He settled into his sluggish mind, the familiar feeling of pain meds dulling his mind, and made the pain much more tolerable. The feeling of scratchy hospital blankets all around him, propped up on pillows that were much too soft. 

Slowly, ever so slowly. Like he was peeling glue off of his eyelids, Techno started to open his eyes. The light was blinding, imminently shining into them.

But three dark blotches covered up the light. The only relief from the lights. There was a soft gasp, at least it sounded like a gasp. His ears left like they were filled with cotton, drowning out all of the sounds around him. People were saying words. There was a buzz of what people were saying, but he could not understand them. They were words that he should know, but they did not make a lot of sense.

His eyes started to water, trying to adjust to the light above. Moving his head to try to shield his eyes from the lights.

A ripple of pain shocked through his entire body. His nerves went numb, vibrating with the supposedly dull pain. Like when people bumped their funny bones. But taken across his whole body.

Techno did not know if he made a noise. Or whether it had been a groan or a whimper. But he must have at least grimaced because the hand on his got tighter. A hand cupped on his cheek, soft, and comforting. He leaned into the touch, opening his eyes when he did not realize he had closed them.

A moment of white flashed before his eyes. No, there was color. But they were all blended together. Oh, wait, no. Wait.

The colors seemed to swirl together, before condensing, becoming solid, shapes, and things. Green making a bucket hat sitting on top of a messy mop of blond hair. Yellow making a sweater of a man concerned written deep in his eyes. Red making up a shirt of a blonde boy, fear in his blue eyes. That did not belong there.

“Hallo,” Techno croaked. A coughing fit rattled his chest. His ribs felt like they were grinding against each other, viciously, trying to break out of his chest.  
Tears started to well in his eyes out of pain, trying to subside the pain, trying to just make it stop.

If he could see, he would have seen the fear in his family's eyes. The terror was written all over their faces.

A shaky, shaky breath exhausted before he opened his eyes. There was a pulsing pain just under his chest, although he supposed he should be grateful for the pain medicine. It could be a lot worse.

“You’re ok,” Phil said. He followed his dad’s arm, one to his face, and the other holding tightly onto his hand. “Just don’t move. That’s just going to make everything worse. Just….lay there. Is there anything that you need? Water? More pain meds?”

The way that his dad's wings puffed up was so apparent. It would have been funny if he did not have a pounding headache.

“Water would be great,” he whispered. It was odd hearing his voice so quiet. Techno was not sure that he liked it.

Tommy immediately jumped into action, yelling something as he bolted out of the room, in search of water. That also would have been funny if the situation had been different.

“Will, could you go with him?”

Techno froze at that tone. It was one he was very familiar with. He was in trouble.

Wilbur also knew that tone, backing out of the room, only sparing a sympathetic glance to his older brother before disappearing into the hall looking for the chaotic teen.

They stayed in silence for a while. There was always since before something started. It was time for Phil to collect his thoughts. To think about what he was really going to bring up at the moment. And Techno had a very sneaking suspicion he knew what was going to be asked.

“What did you do?”

It was a simple question. He could explain the fight. His job. The job Phil already knew that he had. But that was not what he wanted. Techno knew that. And avoiding it would only make things worse for him.

“I was going to see a doctor.”

Waited.

Phil raised an eyebrow at him. He had never been the kind of father to interrupt his sons, always letting them get all of their thoughts out first before he started to talk.

“But there was just no time. New fights were coming up more and more, and there was no time for me to take a break. There was just a lot going on, and I know I should have seen someone but I just kept….forgetting.”

“How could you forget something like taking care of yourself?”

Techno shrugged. There was no good response.

“You could have called me. We would have picked you up. Patched you up. Taken care of you. Now you’re hurt. Your ribs are screwed, they are going to take a long time to heal. You have infected wounds, and the stab wound came too close to an artery.”  
Techno kept his eyes down. He knew the moment he looked up it would be over... Phil was scared. He was terrified. He was scared that he had gotten hurt. He was scared that he had never called him. And Techno was just so very tired.

Two arms wrapped around his shoulders, pressing his face into Phil’s chest. Emotions bubbled up in his chest immediately, overflowing the walls he put up and taking over all of him. Slipping the mask away from his snout, Techno buried his face deeper into his father's chest, wanting to disappear in the warmth of him.

Safe. He was safe at last. He could finally rest.

“I’m not mad at you,” Phil whispered between his ears, pressing a kiss into the very crown of his head. “I’m just scared. I’m scared that you are not going to come to me when you need help. And I’m scared that you did not.”

“I’m sorry.” He hated how frayed and small his voice sounded. But he understood. He understood where his dad was coming from. Because, if he was being honest with himself, there were times that he was scared of himself as well.

Scared of what would happen if, one day, he pushed himself a little too far. If he was forced to come into a fight when he knew his wounds were not healed. What would happen if they did not call the match in time.

Because he had seen it happen. He had seen, and been the one to beat people into a bloody pulp, bones broken and ligaments torn before someone called for them to stop. There were times when he was pulled out of the bloodthirsty rage that went along with him being a piglin, to see his opponent, defeated and bloody under him, barely clinging to life. He was generally able to keep a handle on the rages that he went through but the more tired he was getting the more he was realizing that it took work. A lot of it. 

And he was running out of energy to keep doing that.

“I’m afraid you're going to get yourself killed,” Phil said, squeezing Techno a little tighter. There was a gentle scolding edge to Phil’s voice. One that he used a lot when they were kids and went a little too far and needed to be corrected.  
Part of Techno wanted to be a kid again. Being an adult was fun and all, but at the moment he was just so very tired. Even after sleeping for so long, he was still exhausted. And to tell the truth, Techno was scared about what would happen if he went too far as well. He was scared of what he could do when he was not in complete control over the rages he was in when he fought.

Because he could hurt someone. He could hurt someone badly. And it’s not like he did not want to fight. He loved fighting. He loved the thrill of it. And he was fine with hurting people. He really was, but it was the fact that...if he hurt someone when he was this tired, it would be a win for this piglin side. And that was something that he did not want to happen. And it was not even like he disliked his piglin half. Sure he had been bullied for it for most of his life, and even in most companies, it had been very hard to sign with one because they did not trust him to keep his cool and hurt their other employees too much, and there was that one time that he hurt Wilbur when they were kids, and oh god what kind of monster was he? Why was he allowed to be here? He was a monster, monster, monster...

“Techno,” a voice said, instantly pulling him back into his body. His hands were on either side of his head, with tears prickling at his eyes. In front of him, with hands-on on either side of his head was the smiling face of his father. Deep lines of worry over his face. Fuck. Did he put them there? “Out of your head for now mate, ok? We are going to have a discussion about this when we get home.”

“Home?”

“Yeah,” that voice was so kind. Techno had no idea how much he missed it until now. He could feel the vibrations in Phil’s chest when he talked. It was one of the most comforting things he had felt in a long time. “Once the doctors think that you are alright, we are taking you back to my server to recover.”

“No I can't,” Techno said.

Phil’s hands immediately grabbed onto his shoulders, pulling him away from the hug. Techno swallowed a whine from the warmth being taken away, instead opted to look into the icy blue eyes of his father who stared at him with an intensity that he had not felt in a long time.

He fucked up.

“And why can’t you come home?” Phil’s tone was dangerous. There was no way that he could explain that would drag him out of this hole. With a thick swallow, Techno started to tell the truth. Knowing the reaction he would get for it.

“B-because my contract,” he started. Immediately the hands on his shoulders tightened. “They are allowed to call me in as much as they want. And that has been every day since I have signed with them. And...well chances are...t-that’s going to be what happens tomorrow. And….I really need to….”

“Techno!” he flinched at that tone. Oh, he really fucked up. “You are hurt. You bled out in your car and would have died if we did not get to you in time. You almost did die! Your wounds are nowhere near to healed. Your wounds are infected and are only going to get worse. You ‘t not going to work for at least a month. At the very least.”

“But dad, I have to.”

“No, you don’t! I am not letting you. I am your father! And you are not taking care of yourself. I can’t leave you in your apartment with a good conscience that you’ll actually take care of yourself. You are coming home. And you don’t have a choice. And I don’t give a damn what your contractors say, because you're hurt, and I’ll be damned if I let one of my sons get more hurt than they already are.”

They stared at each other.

Techno felt all of the arguments die on his tongue even before he could make them full thoughts. There was only one other time when he had seen Phil like this was when Wilbur had been working himself into insanity on some project. They had never discussed it with Techno and Tommy, but Wilbur had not been allowed to leave the house for weeks, with Phil glued to his side. The same fiery determination had burned in his eyes. And it was not something that should be screwed with.

And yet, it was that fire in his father's eyes that made Technoblade, the Blood God breakdown again. Curling up on himself, letting the dehydrated tears fall down his face, past his snout and to the cheap hospital blankets under his, clenching them hard in his hooved hands.

Phil opened his arms, and Techno fell into them curling up next to his father’s chest, grabbing onto tight onto his coat, almost wrapping it around him, like it would save him from the world. Burying his snout deep into the crevices of Phil’s chest.

He cried for the second time that day. Second time in a very long time. Letting the ugly tears fall, letting the exhaustion soak into his bones, to be dealt with later. To ignore the flashes of Tommy and Wilbur at the doorway, waiting for their moment to be over before they interrupted.

He loved them. Techno really did. And id resting would make them happy….

...He would do it.

So he cried himself into another slumber, just letting his father hold and protect him. Because he was not alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay for comfort! Pigman needs it.


End file.
